


Wedding Bell Blues

by Arsenic



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Fashion & Couture, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Post-Canon, Wedding Planning, originally published in a fanzine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24326218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Damen's and Laurent's wedding, by nature, requires canny political planning.  Damen will make certain that for Laurent, it also has the memory of those he's loved.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 83





	Wedding Bell Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in Elegance, a CaPri Zine for charity. 
> 
> Thank you to freshbakedlady for the beta. All remaining mistakes are my own and nobody else's.

Damen’s leadership skills are not flashy, something that often grieves Laurent to no end. 

“The joining of two kingdoms that have learned well to hate each other is something that requires pomp and circumstance, Damianos,” he says, his voice steady, but only because he is too tired to put any verve behind the point.

Damen’s responding expression is patient, but it, too, is tinged with exhaustion. Laurent is aware he is not being fair. Lack of flair aside, Damen has proven himself quite good at the day-to-day minutiae of politics and diplomacy, something that Laurent knows would not have come naturally. Damen is a warhorse trained to be a show pony, but the training took.

The problem lies in the fact that Laurent is Veretian, and no amount of studying or time amongst the Akielons will make him otherwise. His ability to shape the world as he sees fit is limited by the bounds of his own understanding. “We need to bring the Western Kyroi to heel, and short of civil war, I am—” Laurent pauses to breathe. “The situation calls for—”

“Pomp,” Damen finishes. “Such as letting them host the wedding.”

Laurent blinks. “We agreed—”

“To have it at Delfeur, a consecration of the new capitol, yes, but why have one party when you could have two?”

Laurent thinks it through. Having the wedding in western Akielos will stir some resentment amongst the nobility he hasn’t managed to fully bring around to his way of thinking in the Southern tip of Vere, but Herode owes him and has sway in the region. Decoupling the ceremony for the new residential palace from the wedding has its drawbacks. Damen is right, though, it gives them more room to maneuver. “I do like a good party.”

Damen smiles, fondness shining in his features. “Liar.”

“Only you would know.”

* * *

The one aspect of the wedding Laurent does not have to think about is the clothing. He pens a missive to Charls regarding an order of the cloth necessary for a traditional Veretian wedding suit, and within weeks the cloth arrives. Laurent has it delivered to the Veretian tailor who created his coronation outfit, and has her work off the measurements of that outfit. She can fit it to him a week before the event.

The only change Laurent asks for, mostly because it will drive Damen to distraction, which is always a bit of good fun at public events, is that the collar be made to lace up, rather than button. It will allow Laurent to leave the laces somewhat loosened, and therefore flash the curve of his collarbone. If he tilts his head the correct way at just the right time, he has no doubt Damen will forget the vows he’s supposed to be saying. Not that Laurent has any intention of messing up their formal union for the chance to laugh at Damen.

Probably, in any case.

Laurent still secretly revels in the power he has over Damen, both casually and more deeply. It’s something that feels both fitting and yet never seems real. He is smart enough to know that some part of him will always be the powerless fourteen-year-old in his Uncle’s court. He is strong enough to know that it is a very small part. 

A week before the wedding to the day, Laurent goes for the fitting. Veretian wedding suits are not that terribly different from court-wear in general. They are traditionally made of silks, generally in a glacial blue or silver hue, but Laurent has requested a deep indigo. Unless he’s missed his guess, Damen will wear the traditional wedding robes of his family line, which will mean nearly wine-red and burnished golds, and Laurent has no intention of paling in comparison. Damen fills the room quite enough just by breathing.

As such, deep indigo with gold filigree thread and lacings had been his color choice, and seeing the final product fills him with a sense of rightness. The combination is somehow innately royal.

The tailor, Elodie, sends her assistants away and helps him into the suit. Laurent has never mentioned his dislike of having others touch him to her. All the same, she seems to know, is cautious about helping him with the laces. Once he’s properly in the suit she sets to pinning the few spots that need a bit of work. 

Laurent glances over at where the matching cape and diadem made specifically for the ceremony rest. The diadem is all slender twists of gold, as he has requested. Only—

“Is there an amethyst in the diadem?” Laurent asks. It is a beautiful gem, matching the hue of the fabric, but with the luster that only precious gems can manage. The cut is trilliant, woven into the gold at the front crest of the piece. 

“Ah, no, that’s a sapphire.”

Years of controlling his emotions make it so that Laurent doesn’t bring a hand to his stomach, but the gut-punch of the words is there. “A purple sapphire?”

Elodie stops what she’s doing. “Yes, your majesty. Your fiancé requested that a sapphire matching whatever choice of color you made be added to the wedding ensemble. Would you prefer it be placed elsewhere?”

Laurent closes his eyes for a moment, just a moment, and says, “No, no. It’s perfect where it is.”

* * *

The fitting is less than halfway through the day, and like every day, Laurent’s schedule is packed with meetings and other formalities that must be seen to. Damen’s days are tightly planned as well, which means Laurent knows where his partner is at any time. This is usually a gentle reassurance in the back of Laurent’s mind.

Today it is maddening.

Refusing to have the next moment he sees Damen be during dinner, when there will be courtiers and servants and too many people in general—that is, not just the two of them—Laurent risks skipping a meeting on Patran border taxation. It is during the time when Damen will have just finalized security for the trip west, and be heading toward a consultation on a land-share concept Nikandros is interested in trying out.

Laurent intercepts him with a tight, “Nik can wait,” pulling the two of them into one of the palace’s ballrooms, empty and cavernous in the daylight. Pallas, who has been seeing to Damen’s security, nods and closes the door. Jord and he will keep anything but the most dire of emergencies outside the room.

“Laurent?” Damen asks. 

“A sapphire,” Laurent says, and is horrified at how hard it is to keep his voice from breaking. Sometimes, with Damen, it’s like he’s someone else entirely, someone worth the tenderness Damen gives so freely. 

Damen studies him for a long moment and asks, caution in his voice, “Was I wrong? I thought—I believed it would be…appropriate, to honor him. Your brother lives in the memory of all your people, in your features, he will be at our wedding because his legacy survives in you, but Nicaise, he—”

“Was just a pet,” Laurent finishes, the cold of his tone matching the ice settling in his stomach.

“I was going to say he was just a _child_ ,” Damen corrects. “Brave and loyal and a total brat, but a child. He didn’t have a chance to leave his mark on the wider world. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve to be remembered.”

“You hated him,” Laurent says quietly, knowing the lie even as he forms it.

Damen sighs, moving toward Laurent. For a moment, a split second, Laurent considers moving away, forcing Damen to keep looking at him. In the end, the pull of Damen’s arms is too much to give up. Damen kisses the top of his head. “If you don’t like it, it goes away. Nothing you don’t want is going to get within a hundred feet of you on our wedding day. I simply thought it would…you deserve the presence of everyone who has loved you. That is all.”

Laurent mumbles into Damen’s chest, “I love it. You know that. You knew I would.”

Damen strokes down his back and says, “Well, I had hoped. You’re not always the easiest to predict.”

Laurent hears the joke in those words, even smiles a bit, still clinging. “Heaven forfend.”

* * *

Laurent wears the diadem on their wedding day. He doesn’t remove it, not once. It is Damen who does, afterward, when he has unlaced and peeled Laurent out of everything else. He says, “May I?”

Laurent takes a breath.

Damen says, “We shall make it a custom for special occasions. This will not be the last time it graces your head.”

Laurent tilts his head with a quiet, “You may,” and allows Damen to strip the last thing between them and pure, naked joining.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback (but in no way expects or feels entitled to it!!) including:
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> I can be found on tumblr @arsenicjade.


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